


Bound

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universes, Angst, Drama, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MY MONGOOSE EZINE "FIRST KISS" CHALLENGE</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I've seen the damn Jennifer 

## Bound

by Jvantheterrible

Author's webpage: <http://www.angelfire.com/oh3/SkinnerSanctum/index6.html>

* * *

Bound 

(Or, MY MONGOOSE EZINE "FIRST KISS" CHALLENGE STORY!) 

Author: Jvantheterrible  
Date: June 27th - 28th, 2001  
Disclaimer: Gorgeous men not mine...and just LOOK what happened to them when left to the devices of the people that DO own them. HMPH. Incidentally, no money here, but thanks for asking. Rating: R, undoubtedly for violence, bad language, & angst...it's just a FIRST KISS story. Sheesh, you guys are PERVERTS. LOL. Tilly/Gina Gershon film about ten times. And this is SO not that. (But godDAMN that movie sure is hot.) But I REALLY like the title. LOL. BTW...this is from Blair's POV. Oh, and for all you PLOT STICKLERS OUT THERE? I have NO IDEA what day of the week it was when Blair gave his press conference, so PLEASE bear with me as I shamefully MAKE IT UP. And, would this REALLY be a Jvantheterrible production without MASSIVE angst? Well, yeah, this is TWICE I've warned you now. Feedback: Welcomed and ALWAYS answered at duranjaxter@comcast.net - Flames? What are those? Aren't those what pre-civilized beasts (so-called men) at the beginning of time figured out how to make? Yeah? Good. Then they can KEEP them. And YOU can keep YOURS. LOL. Enjoy. Or not. I don't care (weeeelll, maybe just a LITTLE bit...). I just WRITE what my muse TELLS me to. So there. Hope you like it. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**852 PROSPECT**  
 **FRIDAY NIGHT (TWO DAYS AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE)**

I gave it all up for him. And when I say ALL of it, I mean my entire life as I knew it. Him being James Ellison, the Sentinel of the Great City. The subject of my now-dismantled dissertation, and the object of my...oh hell, just never fucking mind. I've had to clean out my office at Rainier, battle newshounds from Hell about my press conference, and turn down a so-called REAL job with the Cascade PD. Me with a gun? I don't fucking THINK so, man. I mean, yeah, like there's ANYTHING other than Jim's partner that I can see myself being...but still. I have my values. My beliefs. My peaceful upbringing. My pride. And even though it's all been shot to hell - figuratively speaking of course - I just can't seem to do what's right. And just what IS right, anyway? Hell if I know, man. 

When Jim finally gets home from the longest week EVER of work, he stops as soon as he steps inside the door, letting it slam shut heavily behind him as he takes in the boxes that litter the loft's living room. No, it's not dj vu, as he's probably thinking; this is almost exactly what the place looked like during the whole Alex situation. Except this time, it's all MY doing. 

"What the hell, Chief?" Jim asks me, dropping his coat unceremoniously to the floor, seeming not to notice that he's completely missed the peg protruding from the wall where he usually hangs it up. His head's cocked to one side now, his hands are on his hips, and the look on his face...Christ, can I really DO this? Can I really just...man, I have no fucking CHOICE. 

"Hey man," I say casually as I continue to pack things up, albeit a bit more nervously than I was a mere two minutes ago, "I'm going away for awhile, Jim." There. I said it. 

"Where to, Chief? I have some leave time coming, and I'm sure you could use a vacation after all the shit that's gone down this week," he says, still standing stiffly by the front door. It takes every bit of will power that I have to keep moving things into boxes as I struggle NOT to look him in the eye. I'm almost finished, and if I can just get through the next ten minutes or so without losing it, I'll be able to...to...leave. Running away? You bet your ASS, man. This is way too heavy for me to handle right now. 

"Don't worry about it, man. I have some MAJOR processing to do, Jim. It's been one hell of a last few days, you know?" I ask the question, but refuse to meet the gaze that - were it laser beams like Superman's \- would be boring holes through me at this very moment. I shake that thought off visibly and continue with my packing as the (my?) Sentinel stalks towards me. I can almost feel the confusion and anger pouring off him as he nears where I'm standing. I wonder if he can see it, palpable as it seems... 

"Jim, man, come ON," I say exasperatedly as I finally look up and meet his gaze, stepping one foot back from the box I'm packing, which is - incidentally - the last one, "I have to get this done so I can go, okay?" 

"No, Sandburg. No, it's most certainly not okay, MAN," he says sarcastically, mocking me. It figures that he would resort to this tactic in some last ditch effort to keep me here. Keep me with him - where I so obviously no longer belong, Guide or not. He continues to move towards me, and I continue to take steps backwards until he's got me against the far brick wall of the loft, no escape evident as he closes in and places his hands on the wall at either side of my head, arms firmly locked. GodDAMN him; I know he can hear my heartrate increase. He can smell me starting to sweat, too. The son of a bitch knows that he can do this to me; reduce me to a quivering, nervous heap in all of 3.2 seconds...and he's doing it. FUCK. 

"Just where the hell do you think you're going, Chief?" Jim asks me, practically nose to nose with me, his eyes blazing with emotion, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows harshly, most likely struggling to understand what I'm doing - hey, I've studied the man for four years, okay? I have every RIGHT to assume I know what's going through his mind. 

"Come on, man," I begin, starting to shake despite my efforts to control my own emotions, "I can't be a cop, Jim. You KNOW that. And I've been thrown out of Rainier; my diss is nothing more than a diss-tant memory," I joke, swallowing hard when his eyes narrow that much more at my feeble attempt at humor. 

"Not funny Sandburg," Jim grouses at me, then continues, "You've never run away from anything in your life, Chief. Why now? I mean, shit! You've survived Lash, Kincaid, Barnes, Zoeller...and you're going to let this little...incident...drive you away?" 

Now I'm really pissed off. Little incident? Is that all he thinks this is? Fuck, man, this is my LIFE we're talking about. My life's work! "Fuck you, Jim. This is not some petty little discrepancy we're talking about, okay? This is, like, my fucking LIFE, man! My life's work is OVER. FINISHED. KAPUT. Got it, amigo?" I ask him harshly, wincing a bit when he removes his arms from either side of my head and takes a step back, dropping his arms to his sides and his gaze to the floor. 

"It doesn't MATTER anymore that I want to study you and your Sentinel behavior, Jim. Do you understand that? I proclaimed myself a fucking FRAUD to keep your secret, okay? I did everything I fucking COULD to keep you safe. I threw away EVERYTHING that meant ANYTHING to me in order to preserve your life, man. So don't stand there and try to make me feel fucking GUILTY about walking away now. Just...just don't do that to me. I just need some time, man," I finish, my voice thickening in my throat as the lump there threatens to suffocate me. 

James Joseph Ellison spares one final, miserable glance at me before he turns silently and holds his hands up in utter defeat, turning his back to me as he heads up the stairs to his room. He has nothing left to say, no further argument to brook against my decision. As I watch him go, I bend down to close up the last box (that I had purposely puttered over while I waited for him to come home) and I am not ashamed of the tears that pool in my eyes. I watch Jim go slowly up the stairs, refusing to look at me again...and I shake my head sadly as my tears begin to fall and I tape up my box and prepare to move it into storage with all the rest waiting by the front door. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**852 PROSPECT - SATURDAY MORNING**  
 **(THREE DAYS AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE)**

I wake up blearily, moreso than usual since I was up half the night carting boxes down to the storage area I've rented out in the basement. I forget for a brief moment that the only items remaining in my room are the futon I'm sleeping on, my overloaded backpack, another bag with clean shirt, jeans, and shorts, and the emptied out chest of drawers Jim gave me when I moved in. No more personal effects of mine remain, and the memory hits me like a ton of bricks when I'm awake enough to realize that today is the day. THE day, man. The day I leave my Sentinel behind and try to find a new life somewhere, some PLACE where maybe I'm not a fraud and a total and complete joke. 

I get up and shower, perfectly aware of the fact that Jim is still up in his room and most likely refusing to come down to deal with me and this whole fucked up situation. Once I'm dressed, my hair still damp and hanging in ringlets while it dampens my clean flannel shirt, I head to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee. Still no noise from the upper half of the loft; if he's still asleep, I'm the fucking Queen of England, man. Even if he DID sleep through my shower, I KNOW he can hear AND smell the coffee brewing. Bastard doesn't even have enough balls to come down and send me off properly. That's fine; I didn't really expect him to, anyway. 

I nearly drop my travel mug when I turn around after filling it to find James Ellison standing directly behind me. I can't believe I didn't feel his breath in my hair, that's how close he is. "Hey," I tell him as nonchalantly as I can, nearly choking on the words, the look on his face breaking my heart. How can he manage to make me feel guilty about leaving, even after all I've given up? For fuck's sake, we're just...shit. We're JUST best friends. We're JUST partners. We're JUST...Sentinel and Guide. Of COURSE he wasn't going to let me go without a fight - what was I thinking? Everything I've worked so hard to make him believe and understand and utilize is wrapped up in my very existence here at his side. It's as spiritual as it is habit by this point in time, and naturally he's more than a little reluctant to just let me go. Goddammit, if only he knew how badly I don't WANT to leave...not really. I just can't DO this anymore. 

"So...is this it then, Chief?" He asks me, and I suddenly notice how red and swollen his eyes are; I wonder vaguely if he slept at all last night, then mentally chide myself for STILL being so concerned about his well-being. At what point, in the last four years, has he EVER put MY feelings and concerns over his own? The selfish son of a bitch just exudes that...that...VIBE...that makes me care about him more than myself \- no matter WHAT the situation is. And I've given ENOUGH already, haven't I? Haven't I? 

"Uh, yeah Jim, this is it. I got all my stuff stowed downstairs, and I was just, you know, like, getting some java for the road. Sorry if I woke you up. I was trying to be quiet, man," I tell him softly, barely able to continue meeting his pleading gaze. I force myself to keep eye contact with him; I won't let him win this one last time by making me look away because he's tearing my heart out again. 

Oh, did I forget to mention the REAL reason I'm leaving? Yeah, it's no big deal, really man...I'm just in love with the big guy. Sick, huh? I mean, just how in the fucking world is a scientist - like myself - supposed to make heads or tails out of four years of research when I've fallen completely in LOVE with my fucking subject? Never MIND the fact that said scientist - me - is a man, and so is said subject - Jim. Yep, Chancellor Edwards would just SO rather have gotten THAT from me than finding out that I'm a fraud (but not really, but she doesn't know that...no one does...shit, I'm rambling in my inner monologue). NOT. This was easier...wasn't it? Isn't it? 

"You didn't wake me, Blair. I never got to sleep last night. I just...wanted to be awake for...before you left. I wanted to be able to say goodbye." Ellison squirms as he speaks, and it's nearly my undoing. I mean, seriously \- there have been SO many times in the past four years when I wanted nothing more than to just grab Jim and hold him close to me and tell him how I felt. But that's not the FRIENDLY thing to do, you know? That's not what ROOMMATES do. That's not what BEST FRIENDS do. That's not what...well, it IS what SOME partners do, but we're not like that. And I have NO intention of wearing my ass on my shoulders for the rest of my life because Jim Ellison kicked it there when he found out how I felt about him. Although, the way he's looking at me right now...I shake that thought mentally off and pull myself together enough to manage the biggest fake smile I've ever flashed in my life. 

"Yeah, man, okay. Well, you know, it's not like I'm leaving forever or anything. I just have to...like," I stall, and he finishes it for me without missing a beat, "Process," he grinds out, "I hear that." Oh shit. He's using Naomi's WORDS. I really wasn't expecting that. 

"Yeah, Jim. I have to process all of this. Um, here's my cell number; I got it especially so you could call me if you have any trouble with your senses or anything." 

"It won't be the same, Sandburg. You ground me. It's like Incacha said two years ago; we're bound together, Sentinel and Guide. I don't know if it'll work long distance. But I'll sure give it a shot, if I can. I'll uh...I'll...miss you, Chief." He stands there for a moment looking more lost than I've ever seen him - even when he's been Zoned - and then he pulls me roughly to his naked chest in a tight bear hug. I nearly relax in his embrace...I nearly let him win the final battle of wills...I nearly sink to the kitchen floor like a puddle of melted butter at the contact, but I manage to pull myself away mere seconds later. Gee, I wonder if he felt my dick hardening against his thigh with just that brief bit of contact; if the flush on his face and the slight tent pitching in his own boxer shorts is any indication, I suppose he noticed. 

"I'll miss you too, man," I tell him as my voice betrays me and cracks on the last word. DAMMIT; why does this have to be so hard? Why do I have to be so hard? And why, in the name of ALL that is holy and otherworldly is HE hard? "I, uh, I've got to go, Jim. Thanks for, um...everything. For giving me a home, and for being my friend...and my Blessed Protector...and...oh MAN, I've gotta' go," I tell him as I foolishly refuse to meet his gaze one last time before I turn and run to my room. I grab my bags and head out the door without looking back. SHIT. If this IS the right thing to do, why does it feel so fucking WRONG? 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

I can't believe that I've been gone this long. I can't believe that it was THAT EASY (well, it wasn't, really) to just pick up and leave. Of course, it's not like I didn't get the REALLY pissed off calls from Simon at the beginning. And from H. And from Rafe. And dear Lord, I BARELY survived Connor's lambbasting. 

They've ALL called me to tell me how miserable Jim is; I suppose that once he made it known that he had my cellphone number, the road was cleared for EVERYONE from CPD Major Crimes to call and harass me about not taking up the 'Badge and Gun'. That's just not ME, man. I had no CHOICE but to try and make it out here on my own...'out here' being Big Sky, Montana. Yep, been living on a ranch for the past couple of months, and it's so damned peaceful. Nothing but the sun, and the sky, and the cows, and the smelly horses, and the illiterate (and most probably illegal) help running around. 

Okay. Fine, man. WhatEVER. So I miss Cascade. Did I really expect anything different? I mean, HELL. The man that I luh...the Sentinel that I luh...huh...UST after is there, and here I am in the middle of fucking NOWHERE, MO...you know, this really wasn't what I had in mind. No, really. I mean, I didn't really have ANYTHING in mind...but this certainly wasn't on the agenda. I wanted to process my FEELINGS. Deal with my SHORTCOMINGS as a Professor and as a Guide and as a human being. MEDITATE under the STARS for Goddess' sake. Never once, in all the short time that I contemplated leaving Jim and CPD and Rainier and the rest of Cascade, did I EVER figure I'd end up here. Shovelling so much cow and horse shit just to make enough money to put myself up for the night and save up for gas and lodging money to get the hell OUT of here. 

And it really doesn't help matters ALL THAT MUCH that my last message from Simon was nothing more than a ranting and raving soundtrack about how Jim Ellison has been reduced to riding a desk and completing his fellow officers' paperwork because his senses are offline. Yeah, THAT made me feel REALLY good. Well, this IS what I wanted, right? I mean, I HAD to get out of there and try life on my own again, right? RIGHT? SHIT. Just who, EXACTLY, have I pissed off SO badly in the Karma department, anyway? And why hasn't Jim called me? 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**TWO WEEKS LATER**  
 **TUESDAY MORNING, 2:43 AM**

To say that I was dead asleep would be putting it mildly; it was yet ANOTHER loooong day of shoveling horse manure. And scooping up so much cow shit into piles to fertilize the ranch gardens. And feeding the chickens, and said cows and said equestrians...Jesus, what kind of life was THIS, anyway? At any rate, when my cellphone trilled to life in the middle of the fucking night, the only thing that sprang into my mind was, 'Jim'... 

"YEAH," I muttered into the receiver as I hit the button to accept the call, "Sandburg." 

"Blair? Is that you?" My former Captain asked, and immediately I bolted upright in bed. Simon would NEVER be up at this time...let ALONE calling ME...if something weren't utterly and completely wrong. 

"Yeah, man, it's me, Simon. What the hell," I asked him, still half-asleep...until the explanation for his call put me immediately ON DUTY. I reached up to scratch my errant curls, pushing the longer hair out of my sleep-encrusted eyes as I listened to him, freezing in mid-comb of my locks at his words. 

"Sandburg, we need you. Jim's been shot." I literally felt my heart drop to my toes at that moment. Jim Ellison was injured. My partner had been hurt in the line of duty and was suffering. He didn't do well in hospitals under the BEST of circumstances, and even as I hopped out of my erstwhile bunk and hurriedly dressed, I could hear Simon Banks' words permeating my still waking consciousness.   
"...no one else to call, and when he's been awake, he's been asking for you, Sandburg. Come on, man, where the hell ARE you? Jim needs you, Blair," Simon practically begged; I could hear the seriousness - and something that resembled premature mourning - in his voice as I tripped and fell while trying to get into my Nikes. 

"SANDBURG!" Banks bellowed as I dropped my phone and struggled to lace up my shoes as I came fully awake...fully awake and fully aware of just what exactly was going on. 

"YEAH, SIMON," I shouted, picking my cellphone back up and cradling it between my cheek and my shoulder while I finished lacing up my shoes and loading up my backpack. Thank GODS the Volvo was in a cooperative mood; I kept Simon on the phone until I heard the purr of the motor, all the while trying to comfort HIM, telling him that I was on my way. And you know, in all that time, never once did he ASK me to come back. He just knew that I would. I disconnected then, and raced to the freeway, begging Jim silently to just hang on...just hang on that much longer. I was on my way, and I'd had MORE than enough time to process everything. I finally realized where I belonged, and I raced towards it - and HIM \- as fast I could. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**TWO DAYS LATER**  
 **CASCADE GENERAL HOSPITAL**

Close to 48 hours after Simon initially called me, I arrived at the hospital. Back in my so-called hometown. Back to the city that had given up on me mere months earlier by labeling me a FRAUD. Back to the place where the man I luh--huh...back to where my partner and best friend lay wasting away in a hospital bed alone. Yeah, sure man, H and Rafe and Connor and Simon had all been there. But the one person Jim needed - and no, I'm not being melodramatic here, man - was me, and it wasn't until I staggered into his room, sans sleep and all decent hygiene for the past two days, that he finally showed some meager sign of improvement. 

Dissheveled practically beyond all recognition, I pulled the orange plastic chair up to the side of his bed and placed my hands on his forehead; much the same way he'd done to me after Alex had drowned me. It just felt...right somehow, for me to do that. And as soon as I heard the heart monitor pick up several beats, I knew that I was home. And Jim knew I was home, too. 

"Hey man," I murmured softly to him as removed my hands from his forehead...surprised at the grunt that came from between his lips, practically begging me to put my hands back on him somewhere...ANYWHERE...so long as I could touch him. 

"Jim? Can you hear me, man?" I asked him, and the fluttering of his eyelids \- and the increased beeping of the monitors at his side - alerted me that yes, most certainly he could hear me. I closed my eyes then, unable to imagine meeting his gaze after being out of it for so long. "I'm so sorry, Jim," I began. If I had only looked down at his eyes, I would have seen that he had forgiven me from almost the moment that I walked out on him - but I refused to meet his gaze, and continued on in my own guilt-induced frenzy, "I should have told you, man. I should have told you how I felt," I murmured to him, not realizing that he could hear my confession. 

I continued on, despite my inability to meet his now completely wakened gaze, still certain that he would kill me if he knew how I really felt about him, "I gave everything up for you, Jim. I gave up everything that ever meant anything to me, both as a student AND as a hopeful professor...but I wouldn't trade ANY of it. I just wanted you to know that, man," I told him, still avoiding his wakeful and ever-interested azure orbs. "You meant everything to me, Jim," I told him then, STILL not aware that he'd heard every word since I'd said his name five minutes before. 

"Sandburg," the man at my side said oh-so-calmly, as though ignoring the fact that he'd been comatose for nearly three days. "Blair, you mean everything to ME...man," he finished gently, and I couldn't stop the tears that pooled in my eyes and spilled over as I heard his gruff fucking voice, forgiving him INSTANTANEOUSLY for making fun of my term of endearment. 

"Jim?" I half-asked, half-rasped out as I heard his voice grace my ears. 

"Yeah, Chief. I'm here. I'm glad...YOU'RE here," he finished with the slightest grin, "I missed you, Blair. Please don't go away again," he finished exhaustedly, eyes fluttering closed in testament to just how much energy he'd expended letting me know his deepest and darkest feelings. 

"No, Jim," I tell him confidently, even as I sniffle as quietly as I can, "I won't go away again, man." I smile down at him then, and realize just what I've left behind as his honest and open eyes and smile meet mine. "I can't leave you anymore than I can leave myself Jim," I tell him earnestly, leaning down closer to his head so that I can hear his last words before he falls into an exhausted and well-deserved slumber. 

"Love you, Chief," Jim murmurs softly - and I might have missed it altogether, were it not for my ear being so close to his lips already. I want to hear every word that he has to say, from now until the end of time. I always will, I realize. To HELL with predisposed notions of manhood and throwbacks to modern civilized culture; the man I love is beneath my very reach and body and lips at this moment, and I have no intention of waiting any longer to let him know how I feel. It's been way too long already - about four years too long. 

"I love YOU, Jim," I tell him as I bend down and press my lips reverently to his; tentative at first, and then I smile inwardly as he meets the pressure with the slightest bit of acquiescence. I watch as he drifts off into slumber with only the minutest of grins on his face...and I smirk back at him. He may not be able to SEE me giving my blessing, but he undoubtedly knows that I have, and that's all I need. Tomorrow IS another day, and I'm bound to Jim - no, MY Sentinel - almost as surely as he's bound to me. His best friend. His partner. His Guide. His other half. And his lover, if I have ANYTHING to say about it...and I'm sure I will. 

"Love you, Chief," Jim sighs as he once again loses consciousness. I smile down lovingly at the exhausted figure beneath my gaze, promising him silently that I'll never - EVER - leave him again. As though placated by my very thoughts, I watch as Jim rolls over onto his left side...but his right arm remains where it is, reaching towards me as though for approval. I smile down at him and take his right hand in my left one, holding it tightly as I bring it up to rest against my beating heart...I realize that I now hold his heart in mine. Tightly and together, never to be separated again. Could there be any other way? 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**THE END.**  
 **WHEW....CAN YOU SAY SCHMOOP???????**  
Feedback to duranjaxter@comcast.net. Flames? No thank you. It's quite TOASTY here in Arizona in near-July. LOL. 


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